Sharing (Sequel to Watching)
by A Darker Heaven
Summary: This story picks up right where "Watching" left off. Sherlock becomes a bigger part of John and Lestrade's romantic relationship, especially after John proves something to him.


**Title:** Sharing (1/1) (Sequel to Watching)  
**Authors:** A Darker Heaven  
**Fandom:** Sherlock (TV)  
**Pairing:** Lestrade/John/Sherlock, Lestrade/John  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** Slash  
**Spoilers:** Seasons one and two  
**Word Count:** 6,410  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours. The characters of Sherlock belong to BBC and Gatiss/Moffat.  
**Summary:** This story picks up right where "Watching" left off. Sherlock becomes a bigger part of John and Lestrade's romantic relationship, especially after John proves something to him.  
**A/N:** This story was originally written as an RPG, which explains any shifty POV's. This chapter is not beta read.

**You asked for more, so here it is. Enjoy! – T. F. Goblin**

Before John could get the shower running, the door to the bathroom opened and Sherlock walked in. John quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his naked body. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"You are upset," Sherlock stated.

John braved one quick glance towards his friend. "I'm not upset. I'm just confused," he admitted.

Sherlock frowned. "Me being in your bed was... not good?" he guessed.

"I never said that. I just said I was confused," John corrected quickly, but how could Sherlock understand? "I don't really know why what happened… happened."

Sherlock felt he needed more data on the subject himself. "I am jealous, you were right about that," he admitted. "But I was not jealous of Lestrade. I was jealous because I was being excluded."

For a moment, John only stared blankly at Sherlock, his towel tightening more protectively around his middle. "What would you have preferred, then?" he finally dared to ask.

Sherlock nervously licked his lips, leaned forward, and kissed John chastely on the mouth without warning. It ended quickly and left both men stunned.

John briefly concentrated on the shock of Sherlock's lips against his before he closed the distance between them again to demand a something real. Sherlock was initially startled, but soon he was tentatively kissing back and lifting a hand to cup the other man's face.

Suddenly unable to control himself, John pressed his body against his and stood on his toes to better reach him. He didn't want the moment to end. When it ended, he would have to come to terms with it.

It was then that Sherlock realized John only had a towel on- and even though he had just watched the other man have sex- he blushed and pulled away.

When he did, John immediately turned his back towards him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have done any of it..." he panicked.

"I kissed you first," Sherlock pointed out.

"Do you want me?" John finally turned to ask bluntly with the beginnings of tears stinging his eyes. "You made it very clear that you didn't want anyone!"

"I had just met you then!" Sherlock protested. "And we were on a case. You know I can't think about other things while on a case! You caught me off guard with your interest."

"It wasn't interest, you arrogant bastard," John shot back at him, but it was only half true. "And you didn't answer my question."

Did he want John the way John wanted him? Sherlock thought about all the ways he wanted John. He wanted to be able to touch him without any motive behind it. He wanted to be able to kiss him when he said Sherlock was brilliant. He wanted to make sure John would never leave him.

"Yes, I want you. I've wanted you for awhile now… since the pool when I thought I might loose you," he admitted.

John looked at him with suspicion. He wondered if Sherlock even really knew what he wanted or if he was capable of wanting anyone. "I am with Lestrade," he said all the sudden.

Sherlock let out a sigh. He honestly did not think John would still be with Lestrade as long as he has. He always thought it would simply fizzle out, but it didn't look like that would be the case. "I know, but he didn't seem to mind me being in bed with you," he pointed out

John looked down at the ground. "I'm confused and I was lost in the moment," he lied. "We shouldn't do that again... it's not right."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

"Because it's not proper," John stumbled for an answer.

"I didn't think you cared that much about proper. You live with me, after all," Sherlock actually tried to tease.

John wasn't amused. "I need some privacy right now, Sherlock," he announced sternly.

Sherlock nodded and said nothing else. Before he left, however, he managed to very sneakily deliver another quick kiss before he scurried out of the bathroom.

John took a long, cold shower and came out only when his fingers began to wrinkle. He dressed and walked back into the living room, not looking at either his boyfriend or his flatmate. Sherlock was on his laptop and Greg was reading the paper.

John headed to the kitchen and Greg followed. He kissed the back of his lover's neck

John started a bit but tried to pretend it didn't happen. "Tea?" he asked, moving away from his boyfriend.

"Why are you mad?" Greg asked quietly.

John turned around to glare at him. "For the last time, I'm not mad," he hissed, but his voice was still low enough for their conversation to remain private. "I'm just confused," he added angrily.

"I'm sorry," Greg whispered, "I thought... I didn't think you would mind."

"I obviously liked it, but I don't know what to think now," John admitted sadly.

"Maybe it's not about thinking," Greg tried to soothe him. "Maybe it's just about doing what feel right. We've been together for a few weeks and it still feels like there has been something missing and I think that missing piece is Sherlock."

That caught John off guard and he immediately stiffened with self consciousness and doubt. "There is something missing? Am I not enough?"

"No, of course you are," Greg corrected right away. "I just meant… I think we both have fancied Sherlock for a long time before we even knew each other. I… I think he is what brought us together."

John, having never been in a real relationship before his relationship with Greg, took that the wrong way and took it hard. "What you are proposing is crazy. Why don't you just ask him into bed next time instead of me if that's what you want?" he shoved past him.

Greg grabbed his arm before he could storm off and forced him to turn back around. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he told him sternly.

John resisted. "Let go of me. I need to go to work."

Lestrade forced himself to take a deep breath, one he usually just had to take when dealing with Sherlock, and let go of John. "Are you sure you can trust us together after you leave for work?" he asked sarcastically.

John sighed. "Don't be cruel. I just need time to think."

"Sorry." Greg immediately apologized. "That was uncalled for."

John merely gave him a quick nod before he grabbed his leather jacket and briefcase and shot a quick glance in Sherlock's direction before he walked out the door.

Sherlock looked up in time to watch John leave. After the door closed he glared at Greg, who put his hands up defensively. "I'm not in the mood for anything you have to say so just shut it," he growled before he resumed his newspaper.

That night, John stumbled back into 221B Baker Street after going to the pub after work to clear his head. And clear his head he did. He came home drunk but refreshed, and though he was still confused and more than a bit scared, he opened the door to find both men passed out on the couch and smiled.

For a while, John just stared at them. He wanted both of them. This morning, as confusing and sudden as it was, had been impossible to get out of his mind. He stumbled over to the couch and kicked both of them softly. "There is no room for me on this couch," he announced grumpily.

Sherlock startled and sat up but Greg just lazily blinked up at his lover. They had been watching some ridiculous television show and had fallen asleep while they waited up for John.

"There is always room for you, love," Greg smiled sleepily and pulled John down to sit in between him and Sherlock. John kissed Greg deeply as if he had missed him, the taste of alcohol obvious on his breath.

Greg deepened the kiss and he felt Sherlock shift around so he was pressed closely against John. He then laid his head in John's lap as if he fully intended to just go back to sleep.

Greg pulled away from John to look at him. "You went to the pub without me?"

"I needed to think. And I needed to drink," John slurred to his lover right before he went back to kissing him.

"We should move this to the bedroom," Greg whispered to John when it looked like Sherlock was just going to ignore both of them and go back to sleep.

"Mmmm," was John's hurried reply as he freed himself from both men and began to walk unsteadily to the bedroom.

"You coming?" Greg asked Sherlock who was trying to find a comfortable spot on the couch after his pillow disappeared.

"I better not," he mumbled.

John froze, suddenly afraid that Sherlock now regretted everything and wanted nothing to do with either of them and he had gotten wasted alone in a pub for no reason. "What's that supposed to mean?!" he shouted to him from the other room.

"You said it wasn't proper!" Sherlock yelled right back from his position on the couch.

"Fuck you, then!" John shouted back, at a loss for anything other than drunken profanity, falling against Greg in the process.

Greg held him up as best he could. "Sherlock get off your ass and help me get him up the stairs."

Sherlock appeared a moment later and reached for John's arm to swing over his shoulder despite John's attempts to shrug both men off. "I'm fine! I just got vertigo," he snarled, though he was clearly unable to support himself.

"John, hush now and let us help you," Greg soothed his drunk lover.

John pushed them both away, but only fell further against Sherlock in the process. "I don't need either of you," he mumbled, though he didn't expect to convince anyone.

Sherlock finally just gripped John tightly and hauled him easily over his shoulder and stomped up the stairs. He hadn't wanted to disturb the smaller man's dignity, but it was clear to him then that John didn't give a rat's ass about dignity tonight. "And people say I'm the stubborn one," he teased him affectionately as he laid John on the bed and Greg reached down to undo his shoes.

"I'm not," John argued, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. He slipped into a pleasant state of not being awake and not yet quite being asleep, just enjoying the way the room was spinning and the warm presence of the two other men.

When Greg reached to undo John's belt buckle, Sherlock threw himself over top of the doctor. John woke suddenly to feel hands at his waistline and opened his eyes halfway to see Sherlock's devilishly smirking face. He smiled up at him sleepily and pulled him down which ended with Sherlock falling on top of him.

"Hey, you two behave," Greg warned them as he tried to work around both their bodies to get John undressed.

John held Sherlock close despite knowing that the other man had never had this kind of physical proximity with another person before, and kissed him chastely on the cheek with an innocent smile. Sherlock seemed to melt on top of him. He nuzzled his face into John's neck as Greg continued to get John ready for bed.

John emitted a happy grunt when he realized Sherlock was okay with snuggling and pulled him even closer; making it even more difficult for his boyfriend to finish what he was trying to do.

Greg rolled his eyes. "All right, you two, scoot up on the bed."

John scooted over politely and Greg turned off the light, leaned down to kiss him, and commenced to cocoon all three of them together under the blankets. "Get some sleep."

"Does this change how you feel about me?" John whispered almost deliriously as if he had been waiting to ask him that question all day.

"It doesn't change anything," Greg tried to reassure him. It earned him a lazy smile from his lover. "It _won't_ change anything."

"Shut up," Sherlock mumbled into the darkness.

John just giggled drunkenly and squeezed Sherlock tighter. He nestled against both men and closed his eyes, at peace with the new reassurance.

John woke slowly the next morning, feeling the two warm bodies next to him and grumbling happily.

Sherlock had been awake for a while but hadn't moved, instead just enjoying the closeness of sharing a bed. When John began to stir, he reached for him and pulled him closer.

John smiled sleepily. "Wake up. I'm bored," Sherlock demanded.

"'m awake," John insisted in a tired mumble.

"No, you're not," Sherlock protested. For added measure, he jabbed John in the side to insure he received his full attention.

John squirmed, the pinch waking him up abruptly. "Ow! What, then?" he asked.

"Why did you go out drinking alone last night?" Sherlock interrogated, because it bothered him that he didn't understand.

"I had to think," John told him. "You stress me out."

"That's why you have Lestrade. To work out that stress," Sherlock said matter-of-factly. Greg, who was half awake, snorted.

"Greg doesn't help, he just buggers me and I feel better," John mumbled.

"That's what I meant."

"You could bugger me," John said suddenly, turning bright red and nuzzling Sherlock to distract himself from the sudden fear of rejection. "I'm sure my boyfriend won't care."

Sherlock's hand cupped John's face. "I'm not... It's really not my area... sex," he stuttered, for once at a loss for words.

John did not let that disappoint him. "You're human like the rest of us. I think you just haven't tried."

"I have tried... once. Not my thing," Sherlock admitted.

"That person wasn't me," John pointed out.

This was true. No one compared to John, not ever Victor Trevor who Sherlock had thought was his first true friend only to find out he was just one of Mycroft's lackeys. Sherlock had never really gotten over that particular betrayal.

"I don't want to rush into anything. I need more data," Sherlock suddenly closed the topic for debate.

John suddenly felt self-conscious. He was bearing his soul for both of them, but Sherlock was too afraid to even try. "This isn't going to work, anyway. It doesn't make any sense," he mumbled.

"Don't say that," Sherlock demanded right before he leaned in and kissed him softly to lessen his tone.

John loved this softer side of Sherlock that he hadn't even known existed and he felt unable to resist him. He turned to his boyfriend, who he had been ignoring, and kissed his neck.

"You two done talking at this ungodly hour?" Greg complained sleepily. He had been perfectly content to sit back and let them work it out on their own.

"John, you didn't take it back, about this not working."

John sighed. "I'm not a fortune teller, Sherlock, I don't know what is going to happen."

Sherlock huffed and sat up quickly. "That's not good enough," he snarled, but his attempt to make a dramatic exit was interrupted by Greg grabbing his arm and yanking him back down beside John.

"You're not throwing one of your fits right now," he said sternly.

John actually laughed, turning to see Sherlock's expression at being told off. "If you weren't John's boyfriend, I wouldn't let you keep that hand," he finally said threateningly.

The other detective raised an eyebrow at the threat. "I think you protest too much," he teased. "What do you think John?"

"I think you don't really care if he's my boyfriend or not, you don't really want to get out of this bed," John told Sherlock.

Sherlock got defensive when it was clear he was getting ganged up on. "It's because your bed is far more comfortable than mine."

"Well, if we are going to continue... sharing," Greg said carefully, "we might consider a bigger bed."

John smiled and tangled his hands in Greg's graying hair. They had done enough talking. He decided to show Sherlock exactly what he was missing out on and kissed his lover deeply and urgently. Greg plunged into the kiss without hesitation, pulling John on top of him and away from Sherlock. John moaned and he promptly seated himself over the other man's groin, rocking his hips as their lips moved urgently to deepen the kiss.

Greg moaned lazily and felt himself reaching full hardness. He could feel Sherlock sit up and move closer to them but he was too distracted by the fact that John was grinding down on his erection to pay the man watching any attention.

But for John, Sherlock's unblinking gaze was impossible to ignore as he slowly kissed down his lover's chest. He wanted it to be Sherlock's hands on him. He wanted it to be his morning erection he felt against his ass. "Go away, I'm trying to fuck my boyfriend," he muttered in his direction, daring him to do otherwise.

"I'm not leaving," Sherlock argued stubbornly. As if to prove it, he tangled his fingers in John's hair as if to pull his face away from Greg's toso. He didn't though; he just clenched his fingers in John's hair and left them there as if he wasn't quite sure what he was allowed to do or to touch.

John felt those fingers in his hair and automatically felt a rush of adrenaline through his body. His hands wandered down Greg's chest, and as quickly as possible, he shoved his sweatpants and underwear down until his erection popped out and stood up straight. "Might be quite boring for you, then," John growled angrily in Sherlock's direction as he began to kiss down the trail of soft hair from Greg's naval to his groin.

"I'm not bored," Sherlock told him as he watched John closely.

John licked over Greg's belly button. "Is this just like watching a nature show on the telly for you, then?" he accused right before he sank lower and licked up his lover's shaft with agonizing slowness.

Greg was too distracted with pleasure to pay attention, but he did hear Sherlock's voice when it cut through the lusty fog. "I've given blow jobs before."

John continued to tease Greg with his mouth, brushing his lips against the head of his cock and slowly licking up the shaft, not yet swallowing him down. He cleverly didn't show any indication how the thought of Sherlock giving a blow job to someone made him feel other than his fists clenching tightly on his lover's thighs.

"So?" he cursed.

"Oh my god, less talking please," Greg begged suddenly.

John tried not to laugh at his impatient lover he loved to tease so much. He licked over the wet head of his cock once more before he swallowed him down, his one hand jerking him at the base, only to stop a moment later, wipe his mouth, and accuse angrily again, "Then this isn't very educational for you then, is it? What is it, then?"

Sherlock kissed him then. He wanted to kiss the anger right out of him.

John was clearly surprised, especially because Greg's pre-come was thick on his own tongue and he knew the other man would taste it. Yet when he felt Sherlock's lips on his he suddenly couldn't pull away and his body moved to straddle the man underneath him. Greg stared up at both of them, transfixed with the erotic show, but still so fucking impatient like a rubber band stretched too far and about to snap.

John, still kissing Sherlock somewhat messily, sat up just enough to slide two fingers inside his own entrance. He heard Greg moan and shove the doctor's fingers away, quickly replacing them with his own.

Sherlock paused when John then moaned against his lips, curious as to what caused it. "Show me how to do that," he demanded of Greg.

The thought of Sherlock's long violin fingers inside of him made John begin to breathe much heavier and he braced himself with hands on Greg's broad chest. Greg smirked up at Sherlock and slipped his digits out of John. "You have to wet your fingers first," he said right before he demonstrated by sucking them into his mouth. "When you're first opening him up, you need to be gentle," he added as those wet fingers slid behind John and slowly pushed back into him.

Sherlock watched closely and reached out to run his fingers down John's spine tentatively. "There's a little spot inside him... his prostate... you'll know when you've found it," he explained as he purposefully slid his finger tips over it and John gasped and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Let me try," Sherlock demanded, reaching down to push Greg's hand away. Greg put his hands instead on John's thighs, and John instinctively spread his legs wider.

Sherlock wet his own fingers in his mouth quickly and lowered them to tease John's entrance. One finger slid in easily, the second one followed after some pushing. "Like this?"

John was speechless as he felt Sherlock breech him and fill him and his hands arched into claws on Greg's chest. "Yeah," Greg encouraged. "Thrust your fingers like you're fucking him."

"I wouldn't know how to do that."

John finally growled in frustration, not caring anymore about what was proper and what wasn't and began to move his hips on the two fingers inside of him. Greg's patience was wearing thin, too. "Fuck..." Greg cursed, and shoved Sherlock's hand away so he could flip John onto his back and unceremoniously push his cock inside of him.

John was not expecting it, though he had felt Greg's body tense under him with frustration for a while now. His body clenched down and a pang of pain surged through him. "Slower!" he shouted.

Greg froze and was about to apologize before he was suddenly thrown off of John and onto the floor. He looked up, dazed from his position on the floor to see Sherlock glaring down at him.

John sat up confused and irritated. "What the hell?!" he demanded, his legs still spread and cock still hard.

"He was hurting you." Sherlock explained, and Greg groaned.

Right now, John was too worried about Greg to scream at Sherlock. "It was an accident, it happens..." He leaned over the edge of the bed and looked down at his lover worriedly. "Are you okay, Greg?"

"I hit my head on the bedside table," Greg growled his answer. "You sure do know how to kill the mood, Sherlock."

When John realized he hit his head, he was beside him in a minute. "Sherlock, get out," he hissed in his friend's direction, leaving no room for argument before he turned back to Greg and closely examined the small injury. "I'm so sorry, darling," he whispered.

Sherlock stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. "It's fine... I'm sorry I got carried away," Greg told his lover.

"It's alright," John said, though his body was still sore and probably would be for a while. He took a tissue, wet it with his tongue, and dabbed the tiny red spot on his head. "I pushed you both too far."

"Don't do that, you always try to blame yourself for things." Greg took the tissue and dabbed the blood away himself. "I'm going to go clean up, why don't you go deal with your madman."

John pressed his forehead against his and kissed him. "I don't want to deal with him. I don't understand anything anymore."

"If this thing... between the three of us is going to work, we need to talk to each other," Greg told him gently.

"Sherlock isn't the talking type," John sighed and looked down at his hands. "I'm scared of this ending badly. I don't want to lose either of you."

"You are not going to," Greg promised him.

John kissed him then to make them both feel better. "Are you sure your head is okay? Do you need anything for it?" he asked, playing the doctor yet again.

"I'm fine," Greg reassured him before a sudden crash from downstairs startled them both. "Go do something with him before he destroys the flat."

John sighed, grabbed his boyfriend's shirt and boxers, and ran out of the room despite the pain in his backside. "Stop it, Sherlock!" he shouted when he found him. He was glad there obviously wasn't a gun nearby. "Calm down, please. I live here too and I don't want you destroying my home."

The coffee table was flipped over onto its side and Sherlock was glaring at it as if it had offended him. "Go away, John," Sherlock warned sullenly. He then grabbed a hammer and stepped towards the coffee table with obvious intent.

John ran forward and grabbed his arm before he could lower it onto the table. "Stop," he told him softly.

Sherlock never understood why his body seemed to automatically obeyed John's softly spoken commands. He sighed and let his arms down, letting John take the hammer away from him. "It was an experiment," he said automatically.

John took the hammer but did not move away from Sherlock. "What was? Bashing our furniture? Trying to test its durability against your frustration?"

Sherlock said nothing, but flopped down on the sofa and stared at the wall. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," John told him honestly as he sat down next to him. "You were only trying to protect me... I guess."

Sherlock still refused to look at John. "I won't destroy the flat, you don't have to worry. You can go back to Lestrade."

"I don't need to go back to him. He won't get it back up after that bump to his head," John tried to tease as he wrapped his arm in his affectionately.

Sherlock relaxed into the embrace easily for someone who usually appeared as if he didn't want human contact. "I didn't anticipate him hitting his head on the table," he admitted. It had just been an added bonus.

"I know. He's not mad, either. I don't think. Though I would have liked to have gotten off," John smiled.

Sherlock was suddenly on his knees in front of John. "I can do that," he offered, cupping John through his shorts

John jumped in surprise when Sherlock dropped to his knees and touched him. "I..." he stuttered, but no words came out.

Sherlock ran his hands up and down John's thighs. "Can I?" he asked in a way that told John he wasn't really asking at all.

John was practically shaking as he looked down at Sherlock with wide and slightly terrified eyes. "Y-yes," he whispered.

Sherlock straightened to kiss his lips as he hastily pulled his boxer shorts down only enough for John's cock to spring out of them. His hand fisted him slowly, teasingly. John kissed him desperately then, wanting to distract himself from his own nerves.

"See? I can take care of you, too," Sherlock mumbled against John's lips.

John exhaled deeply and tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair to hold his mouth against his.

"John..." Sherlock said breathlessly as he stroked him. "I want to put my mouth on you."

John immediately released his grip on Sherlock's hair and dropped his shaking hands on the couch. "Sorry," he whispered quickly.

Sherlock kissed him again quickly before he sank back to his knees. "It's been a while... since I've done this."

John took a deep breath and gripped the sofa hard. "I know," he whispered. He didn't want Sherlock to do this with anyone else, anyone who might not deserve him. A surge of possessiveness overcame him then and it surprised him.

Sherlock stroked John slowly and leaned forward to lick a long stripe of moisture up the side of John's cock. John could not hold back an open mouthed cry. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly.

Sherlock took John's cock all the way into his mouth, ignoring his stupid apologies.

John's eyes rolled into his head. "Oh god, Sherlock," he exhaled, fidgeting with his hands until he finally grabbed the pillows instead of the other man's hair, not wanting to scare him.

It was at that point that Greg wandered in, wearing nothing but his open robe. He took in the scene with wide eyes before he sat down in one of the chairs to watch. John tensed when his boyfriend came in, but when it was clear he was far more turned on than not, he relaxed and did not try and silence himself this time. He moaned loudly and bit his lip hard under the heavy stare of Greg's eyes.

"_Fuck_..." he whined.

Sherlock's head started to bob faster in John's lap, obviously trying to bring him off as quickly as possible. John's right hand finally threaded through Sherlock's hair, not pushing, but feeling as he sucked him off. He squirmed underneath him and felt himself reaching that perfect orgasm. "I'm going to... I'm gonna come..." he warned desperately, biting back a series of moans, and when he opened his eyes, his gaze once again fell onto Greg's.

Sherlock only sucked harder, wanting John to come inside his mouth. A moment later, John opened his mouth to scream something incoherent and thrust into Sherlock's mouth as he came down his throat, his orgasm hitting him like a lightning bolt through his entire body.

Sherlock pulled back and tucked John gently back into his shorts. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before looking at John. "Alright?" he asked hesitantly.

John answered by pulling Sherlock into a deep kiss, tasting him on his tongue and feeling his body shiver and pulse with the after effects. Sherlock went easily into the kiss and moaned when he felt John's tongue touch his own.

John, needing to satisfy his curiosity, reached his shaking hand down to cup Sherlock's groin. He felt a warm thrill run through him when he realized Sherlock was indeed hard.

Sherlock jerked at the contact. He had surprised himself when his body responded gotten from the sound of John moaning and the feel of his fingers in his hair. But he pulled away from both the kiss and John's hands. "I- I have to go," he hurried.

John wasn't going to let him deny anything now. He grabbed Sherlock, pushed him into a sitting position on the couch, and quickly straddled his hips to pin him down. He slipped his hands down his pants and grasped that erection. "Where do you have to go?"

"I..." Sherlock stuttered as his hips tried to thrust up into John's hand. Greg chuckled from his position across the room.

John did not allow Sherlock to push him away as he practically ripped his pants down and took out his erection, hardly believing it. This could work. Sherlock _did _want him, even if he was only now realizing it. John spat crudely into his palm to lubricate it as he began to stroke him slowly. To prevent any more excuses, John kissed him hard.

John felt his own moan vibrate through Sherlock's body and began to move his lips further south. He did not ask permission before he abruptly sank to his knees in front of him and slid his tongue up his shaft.

Sherlock's eyes rolled back into his head. "Too much," he hissed, unable to articulate the sensory overload he was experiencing.

John grasped the base of his cock in his hand and slowly licked up the shaft again, knowing that Sherlock was overwhelmed. "It's alright... let it happen," he whispered against him.

Sherlock made a noise that sounded like a whine and he grasped John's hair, but-whether it was to push the other man away or bring him closer, he couldn't decide. John thrilled and sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth, encouraged by the way Sherlock was reduced to whimpering within seconds.

Finally done with teasing, John licked his lips, looked up at Sherlock, and swallowed him down. Sherlock made an earth shattering sound before he suddenly came down John's throat.

John nearly choked and pulled away to swallow him down. He watched Sherlock as he was overcome with what must have be the first real orgasm he's ever had. His hands smoothed up and down his thighs as he slowly licked his cock clean.

Sherlock whined and pushed weakly at John's hair, feeling over-sensitized John ignored his fidgeting hands and continued to clean him before he was finally satisfied and Sherlock was once again limp. He wiped his mouth and slid back into his arms. He tentatively pressed his lips against his.

Sherlock kissed back lazily and felt John tangling his hands in his now very messy dark curls. "Alright?" the doctor repeated Sherlock's own words back to him. Sherlock nodded shakily but he still had his eyes tightly closed

John lowered his hands to slip them into Sherlock's as he feathered his face with kisses and nuzzles, now unable to stop touching him after he let him through that brick wall to his emotions. He was only dimly aware that Greg may still be watching.

John snickered softly and held Sherlock tightly. "I told you I'm not like anyone else," he reminded him.

Sherlock snorted into John's shoulder. "Obviously."

"Well, I'm glad you two got that out of the way. Maybe it will calm some of the tension in this flat," Greg suddenly spoke up.

John suddenly lifted his body off of Sherlock's. "Oh, so none of the tension came from you?" he mocked sarcastically.

"Nope."

John gave his boyfriend a look that told him he knew better and got up to stretch, feeling satisfied but knowing that Greg was trying to hide what their show did to him. "There's plenty of room in my shower if anyone wants to join me," he looked directly at Greg as he said it and walked away.

Sherlock still looked a little shell-shocked as he watched John walk away.

Greg could commiserate. He'd been on the receiving end of John's blow jobs many times and they were fantastic. "You all right, Sherlock?" he asked as he stood up to follow his boyfriend and the question seemed to snap the other man out of his haze.

"Just trying to process all the new data," Sherlock told him

"New data?..." Greg asked with a shake of his head and followed John into the bathroom. "I think you blew his brain," he told John.

John laughed and turned the water on. He quickly slipped out of his shorts and tried to do the same to his boyfriend. "You can be rough with me now that he's not here," he whispered into his ear.

"John," Greg stopped him, his voice suddenly serious. "How long have you been in love with Sherlock?"

John immediately frowned and his hands fell limp from Greg's body. "I... I'm not," he scoffed as if the idea was ridiculous.

"Watching you together... it's pretty obvious."

Not knowing what to think or what his boyfriend was accusing him of made John defensive. "You're the one to suggest it we bring him into this, you can't just get angry now," he snapped.

"I'm not getting angry, I just don't know where I stand with either of you, I guess," he admitted uncertainly.

John blinked and suddenly was just as unsure. His relationship with Greg had only just begun itself. "You're my lover like Sherlock will never be," he answered.

"Yeah, but he could be, couldn't he? I mean, you just proved that."

"Just because I gave him a blow job to show he might actually enjoy sex?" John snorted. He didn't know what to say or how to put how he felt into words. "Greg... I need you."

That made Greg feel a little better and he kissed John softly.

John responded by pressing his naked body against his. "I need you more than I want him," he whispered.

Greg stopped him again with gentle hands on his waist. "As much as I want to fuck you, I can't be late for work," he said.

John held him closer and frowned. "We can be quick," he tried.

"Sorry, maybe when I get home," Greg refused, pulling away from him. "I'll see you tonight."

John could not let Greg walk away not knowing if he was still unsure of it all. The thought of him leaving him terrified him. "You're not still upset, are you?" he asked quickly.

"No, I just need some time to think. And I have to go to work. I'm not upset," Greg tried to reassure him when he reached the door.

"Alright," John agreed reluctantly and allowed him to leave.

Greg opened the bathroom door and was surprised to find Sherlock standing there as if he had been waiting on them the whole time. Before Greg could say anything, Sherlock suddenly took his face in his hands and kissed him soundly.

John was just as surprised, but pleasantly so. Sherlock pulled away to look Greg in the eyes. "I'm sorry I kicked you off the bed."

"It's... it's alright, just don't do it again," Greg stuttered, clearly still surprised and turned on by the unexpected kiss. John grabbed a towel, slipped it around his waist, and stepped up to them.

"I'm glad you two got that out of the way, then," John used Greg's words against him.

"Oh, _ha, ha_," Greg glared.

"Now go into work and find me a case," Sherlock said bossily like nothing had happened.

"And both of you get out so I can take my damn shower," John said with equal bossiness.

Greg fled the scene and Sherlock turned to look at John questionably.

"What?" John asked, because as usual, he couldn't tell what his friend was thinking.

"Kissing Lestrade...was it not good?" Sherlock asked as he heard the door slam.

"It was good. I think it's just his turn to be confused," John tried to explain.

"Oh," Sherlock answered. He stepped closer and kissed John chastely before he walked out of the bathroom to leave him alone.

John smiled to himself and returned to his shower. The warm water bathed him in contentment. Maybe this could work after all.

THE END.


End file.
